My horders are—
all trespassers to swoller!
You just come down—I'm waiting 'ere to ketch you.
(Indignantly.) You don't expect I'm coming up to fetch you!
Thos. (politely.) Oh, not if it would inconvenience you, Sir!
(In agonised aside.) I feel my grip grow every moment looser!
[The Monster, in a slow, uncouth manner, proceeds to scramble up the tree.
Oh, here's a go! The horrid thing can climb!,
Too late I do repent me of my crime!
[Terrific sensation chase! The Monster Man-trap leaps from bough to bough with horrible agility, and eventually secures his prey, and leaps with it to the ground.